


Brideshead Reinvented

by whereJIJisalive



Category: Brideshead Revisited (TV), Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:49:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whereJIJisalive/pseuds/whereJIJisalive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern AU where the boys both go to school at Oxford and meet in a similar way to how they meet in canon. This is the story - as best as I can tell it - of what would have happened to Charles and Sebastian had they not been held back by the shackles of the 20th century.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This modern AU will be told mostly in short parts and as in the book they will all be from Charles' point of view. I won't claim that I am able to do this book or these characters justice in any way, nor to I claim to be an expert on the subject. But, I've been wanting to tell this story for a while, something that will happen in sporadic updates as school is my #1 priority.  
> Enjoy!  
> (and wish me luck!)

At the age of 19, you think you know everything. You think you have your whole life laid out in front of you, waiting to finally be started. You think you're the most amazing thing that's ever graced the face of the earth. You think that rules and laws don't apply to you, and most importantly, you think you can do whatever you like with your life. 

Especially if your name is Sebastian Flyte.

I met Sebastian when we were both 19. He had transferred in from a school in France that expelled him for showing up drunk to class. Repeatedly. Obviously, I didn't know this when I first met him. It was quite an odd meeting. It could be seen as a bad one, but strangely I never thought so. Still, it wasn't the kind that promises a beautiful friendship either.


	2. First Meeting

I hated parties. I could handle clubs and festivals, even though even _they_ were an acquired taste. But parties in someone's house were pure torture. I never fit in with the upper middle class kids I somehow found myself associating with. Despite that, I usually let myself get dragged along to a few parties every term, if only to make sure they knew I was still alive. 

This one was no different than all the others. It was just as lengthy and noisy and uncomfortable, I sat on a couch in the corner of the room for most of the time, a virtually untouched plastic cup full of punch in front of me. They didn't even have wine. What was the point of drinking socially if there wasn't any wine? Sometimes I felt far beyond my years, and in some ways I suppose I was. When Sebastian came along, though, he would teach me that maturity definitely wasn't the thing that set me apart from my peers.

As it happens that was the night of our first meeting. Shortly after midnight, just when I was thinking of making my escape, a group of men stumbled into the living room. I didn't recognise any of them, except for Sebastian, but I realised quite soon that they made up the school's theatre group.

They dispersed and some of them wandered into the kitchen, but Sebastian walked up to me. It felt for a second like his eyes were staring straight into my soul. I smiled at him, consumed by his very presence. He smiled back, blinking slowly, and suddenly he looked like he was about to fall asleep. I realised that he was roaring drunk, something that was confirmed beyond doubt when he turned to the side and promptly threw up. My eyes widened and I stood up, about to try and help him or steer him into the bathroom, but that was when Sebastian's friends reappeared and rallied around him, leading him away. One of them, a stocky man with an already receding hairline, turned to me with an apologetic smile on his strangely asymmetric face.

“Sorry about that, my friend. He's had a bit too much to drink.” He then walked away without waiting for me to respond.

“I gathered that,” I mumbled anyway, and decided that it was high time I got out of there. Besides, the smell was rather starting to get to me.


	3. Apology

The day after the party was a warm and slightly stifling day in May. I was sitting in my dormitory room in a pair of shorts and a vest, the newly acquired fan at full speed in the corner. My room mate was away for the week, thank goodness, otherwise it would have been even hotter in the small room. Someone knocked on the door.

I got up and considered for a moment putting on a proper shirt, but found I didn't feel like it. Whoever it was probably wasn't very proper anyway. I opened the door and in front of me stood Sebastian, wearing a pair of huge sunglasses and carrying two bouquets of pink flowers. I didn't know what they were called – botany was about the most boring thing I knew – but they were pretty. Eccentric. Probably very Sebastian.

“I'm sorry for nearly throwing up on you,” Sebastian said sheepishly. “I feel terribly bad.” He handed over the flowers. “Can I come in?” he asked, and that was the end of that.

“Of course,” I said, letting him in and shutting the door behind me. “Thank you so much,” I said when I finally remembered the flowers. I didn't have a vase so I found a clean glass and a pen holder to put the flowers in. It would do for now, but it was impossible to arrange them in any sort of sane manner. At least they were pretty.

“I hope you like pink? I do,” Sebastian murmured without looking at me. His attention appeared to be fixed on the paintings hanging on the walls – most of them were mine. “These are exquisite,” he said in the same tone of voice as before. I was struck with how oddly he spoke, it brought my mind to the aristocrats of the early 1900's. If _I_ was beyond my years then Sebastian was an old soul. It was fascinating, much like his entire person. I thanked him again, though he didn't look like he had heard me.

“I was wondering if you might like to go have some tea? Or coffee, if you must,” Sebastian half-asked after a moment of silence, looking at me with barely masked hopefulness.

I believe I gave him a ridiculous smile in return. Ever since the first time I saw him I had wanted to get to know him. “I'd love to,” I said with my ridiculous grin, and went to the ensuite to change into that vest.


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter coming soon!

Sebastian had known he was gay all his life. At first I found that kind of odd. I hadn't been sure at first, that homosexuality wasn't merely a choice. I suppose, sadly, a bigoted upbringing has its consequences. Now I admire him for it. Sebastian may have been damaged and somewhat of a broken soul, but he knew who he was from the very beginning. And that was in spite of a very controlling mother. But that's a story for a later time. 

During my childhood I never once considered being anything but straight. It wasn't part of my consciousness, simply not an option. Sometimes I think I still can't tell you my sexuality in definitive terms. All I know is that I fell in love with Sebastian. It probably started the first time I saw him, passing me in the halls and looking utterly incandescent. I'm fairly sure I stopped breathing for a second, as terribly romantic as that may sound. 

The truth is, our whole friendship was very romantic. I guess it had to be if you take into consideration our youth, our flamboyance, and his penchant for dramatics. Everything was huge and important and every little sign was to be read into. In hindsight I realise that even the slight gestures he made to me in the beginning, before he had even said a word to me, were his romantically engineered way of trying to lure me in. And lure me in he did, without much trouble at all.


	5. Art Café

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Art Café is a real café in Oxford. It's a really good place and I highly recommend it. Basically the only reason I used it here is so that I could use at least some of my real Oxford experience for this fic.

We spent that day in a place called Art Café, which was a cozy place and not nearly as pretentious as it sounds. Sebastian ordered raspberry iced tea, which was _exactly_ as pretentious as it sounds. I'm not sure if he even liked it, but I guess he deemed it fit his image.

“So you're an artist,” Sebastian stated after taking a sip.

“Well, I suppose. But I'm an English major, really,” I answered, still not quite comfortable with the term.

“Don't be modest with me,” Sebastian said, smiling slightly condescendingly. “I can't stand modesty.”

“Somehow that doesn't surprise me,” I said, for the first time daring to voice my opinion about him. “In that case I am an artist, though I prefer the term painter, and I'm fairly good at it. But it's only ever going to be a hobby.”

“Why is that?” Sebastian asked, seemingly curious. It was a novel experience, that someone should be interested in me.

“My father had two demands when agreeing to pay for my tuition. The first was that I applied only to colleges within Oxbridge, and the second was that I chose something I could build a career on.”

“And you chose English?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows.

“It seemed logical at the time,” I said, and a few seconds later we both burst into laughter.

“What about you?” I added a little while later.

“What about me?” Sebastian deflected.

I smiled in response and humoured him. “What do you major in? Why?”

Sebastian sighed, but started to answer. “It took me a while to decide, but-”

“Excuse me?” A woman said from a table nearby. Sebastian whipped his head towards her, clearly somewhat perturbed. “Ain't he a proper idiot? Did you hear what he said?” She asked in a London accent. Both Sebastian and I looked at her in confusion. There was a man sitting next to her, and I assumed that was who she was talking about.

“We didn't hear him, no,” I finally managed when it became clear that Sebastian wasn't going to say anything.

“The fucker says I'm ugly!” she said, her black, long hair wild around her face, She wasn't ugly, strictly speaking, but you couldn't call her pretty either. She had prominent cheekbones and dark circles under her eyes. Coupled with the unruly hair I realised that she was probably quite unwell.

“Well you're not, of course,” Sebastian said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You shouldn't listen to him.”

She looked surprised for a second until she smiled slightly manically. “Thank you. D'ya hear that Brian?”

“I heard,” Brian mumbled. He wasn't in much better state than the woman. “Now stop bothering them.”

“I'm not bothering them! We're talking! This man is nice to me, unlike you.”

“You're always talking too much, you have no self-awareness whatsoever!” Brian exclaimed, now obviously agitated.

“Self-awareness? My, aren't we fancy in front of the gentlemen,” she said, putting on a bad posh accent. “He's as much working class as I am, just you know it,” she continued turning towards us.

  
Sebastian was starting to fidget next to me, and I figured it was high time to make our escape. “Sorry, but I'm afraid we have to get going.”

“Oh, really?” she said. “You're leaving me with this idiot? Thanks a lot for that,” she paused. “You know what? I don't need you three holding me down. I'm a strong, independent woman and I can make my own way in life!”

Sebastian and I stared, dumbfounded after her as she took her bags and stormed out. Brian didn't look very bothered.

“Aren't you going to go after her?” I couldn't help but ask.

“It's no use,” he said. “She does this twice a week. She'll be back tomorrow.”

“Right,” Sebastian said, coming to. “Let's go.”

  
And we did. After a few minutes of stunned silence at the oddity of what we had just witnessed, we both began to laugh. It was a laughter that began with a bubbling in our throats and ended up with us doubled over on the street, leaning heavily against each other. By unspoken agreement he showed up at my door the same time the next day, inexplicably carrying another bouquet of the pink flowers – even though he had nothing to apologise for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we'll meet Anthony!


	6. Anthony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small update for you today, that I managed to write despite the stress of the holidays. Let me know if you like how this is going so far(and if I completely butchered Anthony), and hopefully there won't be quite so long until the next update. Happy New Year!

The second time I was out with Sebastian I was moved a little further into his circle or trust. We went to a bar to have a couple of drinks, but the bar was not a conventional one. It was furnished like a place from the 1920's and full with extraordinarily eccentric people, a lot of them of a non-hetero orientation. I was delighted. The place felt like home instantly, like it welcomed me with opened arms and that I was finally where I belonged, with the people I belonged to. An invisible thread tied us all together, and at the time I hadn't known what it was.

After sitting there for a while with Sebastian, a man in a very extravagant suit showed up. When I say showed up, I really mean _sauntered in_. The man approached our table and when he arrived, gave Sebastian a dark look, tipped his head back and pressed a messy kiss to his lips.

The whole of my face must have twitched and drawn itself together, and I'm pretty sure that for the entire night that followed I looked as if I had smelt something vile. But if we move back to that moment I shall introduce you to this man by way of his introduction to me.

“Anthony Blanche,” the man said and held out his hand as if he expected me to kiss it. Meanwhile Sebastian looked back and forth between us, an odd, uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Charles,” I said, trying to shake his hand normally. “Charles Ryder.”

“Ch-ch-charming,” he replied, stammering.

I smiled stiffly as Anthony took a seat and pushed his chair as close to Sebastian's as it would go. His arm was soon slung possessively around Sebastian's shoulders.

Ignoring me, Anthony started talking about the drama club, and how they were going to tackle some Oscar Wilde next, and Sebastian would be perfectly _f-f-fabulous_. In the meantime I was uncomfortably sitting there, quiet. At times Sebastian met my eyes, however, and rolled his eyes covertly. It made the experience a little less horrible.

The physical interaction between Sebastian and Anthony was, at first, startling. Sebastian may have rolled his eyes, but he still met every kiss, touch and advance without doubt or discomfort. They were obviously involved in some intimate way, though Sebastian had told me he wasn't in a relationship. It was unusual. It was also, for a reason yet unknown, very disheartening. I found myself wanting to escape, even after Anthony had started to draw me into the conversation.

Afterwards Sebastian made a point of apologising for his friend, and I said that there was nothing to apologise for. After all, Sebastian was a new friend, we didn't know each other very well yet. I wasn't yet comfortable being explicitly honest with him.

 

000

“So, you're gay?” I asked him a few days later, when we were sitting on a bench by the river Isis.

“What led you to that conclusion?” he asked seriously.

“Um, well. Anthony, I suppose,” I said, afraid that I had offended him in some way.

“I would have thought it was quite obvious,” he said, looking me boldly in the eye. It felt like a challenge.

“I-I don't know,” I said. “Maybe.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?” Of course I knew what he was asking, but subconsciously maybe I wanted some time to stall.

“Your sexuality,” Sebastian said amusedly. He looked like he had to hold back laughter, which made me very self-conscious.

“I'm straight,” I answered eventually.

“Of course,” Sebastian said, still smiling. “Let's go for a walk,” he continued and gestured to the pathway. As we walked, he linked his arm with mine. Somehow, he made me feel safe, but I still couldn't help but wonder what Sebastian was getting at. I guess that was the time that the seed of doubt that had already been planted in my mind finally began to grow.  


	7. Julia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for the delay! This was kind of an impromptu chapter, and it didn't end up the way I'd imagined, but I still like it. Tell me what you think!

When I returned from my morning classes one morning, I found Sebastian sleeping in my bed. Not on it, as in on the covers, but in it. I didn’t dare to lift the covers to see what, if anything, he was wearing. Now, I haven’t made it a secret that Sebastian and I eventually developed a… deeper relationship, but this occasion was a while before that. There was absolutely no reason that he should be there at that time.

I occupied myself by clearing out my bad and arranging the books on my desk, books that may or may not have stayed untouched until the next time I had to drag them back to school. I knew I wasn’t keeping up with my studies, but the days and nights I spent with Sebastian and occasionally a few of his friends were taking up all my spare time. Eventually I lost a bit of my compassion for the sleeping man in my bed and slammed one of my books down on the desk, with the intent to wake him up. Sebastian stirred, but only to yawn and turn over, so that he was lying on his side facing the wall. 

”Sebastian,” I hissed. Finally I went to sit on the side of the bed, and put my hand on his shoulder to shake him lightly. ”Sebastian?” I said, softer in tone than before. ”Wake up.”

”Five more minutes,” he mumbled into my pillow, but leaned into my touch. On a whim I let my hand slide up into his hair, running it between my fingers. Sebastian sighed in response, and I tugged a little harder. I could see the hairs on Sebastian’s neck stand up and the skin there prickle slightly. 

”Nice?” I murmured.

”Don’t stop,” he said and burrowed his face further into the pillow. 

I didn’t. I sat there for a few minutes almost massaging his scalp, and found that I didn’t mind at all. Sebastian’s hair was golden and soft, sans product as usual, but it was his reactions that made it an equally pleasant experience for me.

”What are you doing?” he asked when after a while I removed my hand. He finally turned around and met my eyes.

”Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I said pointedly and gestured towards the bed. ”Why are you sleeping in my bed?”

”Can’t sleep in mine.” He said and sat up, at which point I noticed that he was wearing one of my undershirts. If I didn’t know better I’d think this was Sebastian’s way of coming on to me. 

That’s definitely just wishful thinking, I thought, and frowned at myself. I filed away that line of thinking for later. ”Why not?”

”I don’t want to talk about it.”

”Sebastian,” I said sternly. God knows he acted like a child sometimes, but it was up to his other, less intelligent friends to let him get away with it.

He stared at me for a long moment. ”Okay, fine! But you have to promise you’ll let me stay here.”

”Uh,” I said, and momentarily doubted that intelligence I obviously thought I possessed. ”I promise.” And I meant it, no matter how befuddled my friend was currently making me. I waited.

”My sister is at my dorm. She found me.”

”Your big sister?”

”Yes.”

That was all I knew about Sebastian’s family. That he had two sisters and a brother. I didn’t know their names, their occupations, or his relationship to them. 

”Why is that a bad thing?”

”I can’t stand her,” Sebastian said, turning up his nose.

”Why not?”

”Oh Charles, must you ask so many questions?”

”No, sorry, I’ll just leave you to detest your sister in peace. In my bed.”

”Good.”

I knew he noticed my sarcasm - he wasn’t that culturally impaired - but knowing him, he was ignoring it.

”That’s it, I muttered. I don’t know what it was that made me flop down on the bed next to him. Perhaps it was pure defiance. Probably not. We still ended up lying there for the better part of the afternoon, me trying to coax information out of him, him dosing off on my chest. Eventually evening came and the room darkened around us. Paradox as he always is, that was when Sebastian began to stir. 

”Do you want to go get something to eat? Or I could smuggle in some takeaway?”

”Julia never leaves me alone,” he suddenly began, taking my hand in both of his. ”All my life she’s tried to control me, control the people I’m friends with. I don’t want her to spoil this,” he said and squeezed my hand. A little confused I squeezed back. 

”She won’t spoil anything,” I murmured, still unsure to what I was referring. ”She probably just wants to see how you’re doing.”

Sebastian just shook his head. He mumbled something, over and over, and to this day I wonder what it was.

As it turned out, I didn’t get to see Julia until a month or so later, when Sebastian hadn’t had time to hide.

 

000

 

”Sebastian, sweetie, it’s so nice to see you!” Sebastian whipped around fom where he had been listening to Boy Mulcaster’s more intelligent friends talk about Molière. From how Sebastian had been talking about her, I expected him to get angry and to ask her what she was doing there, but he just gave her a kiss on each cheek and said goodbye to all of us. 

I thought about how easily he turned to walk away with her, and something about it crawled under my skin. He didn’t introduce her to anyone, he just started leading her toward his dorm room. I thought about following, but as though he’d read my mind he turned around and gestured for me to stay there.

Julia looked to be none the wiser, talking about herself and her journey here. I was struck first by her voice. High and lilting, and she spoke with the exact same accent and intonation as Sebastian did. Her hair was cut into a bob shape, which was the one other thing I had the time to notice about her, as they walked away. It was a shade or two darker than Sebastian’s. I wouldn’t realise until later that I couldn’t look at her without seeing Sebastian. I watched them walk away with a sort of longing in my heart. For what I did not know.


End file.
